Tuesday, July 9, 2013

The heat of summer. What a perfect time to stay inside and write. And this week is the time to report all those newly written pages...whether heat inspired or not.In the comments, leave your total number of newly written pages, your total of heavily edited pages, and your name if you post anonymously. If you have an unreported, charm worthy event, comment with that as well!your guru thanks you!

Sunday, June 30, 2013

Hot sun rays scorched every item of clothing Sam wore and
the heat burned where it touched his skin. He swiped again at the sweat that
rolled down his face as some trickled into his eyes. He blinked and squeezed
his eyelids hoping to lessen the sting. He couldn’t take much more of this
heat. He looked down the fence row where more bobbed wire needed tightening.
Rip, his dog, sniffed the ground and chased the brown grasshoppers popping up
from the grass not far from him.

Two steps down the fence row, he reached out and grabbed the
wire gaging how much slack he needed to take up. A shrill scream echoed across
the hills and valley. Sam jerked back his hand, his glove still hung on the
barb. He bit back a cuss word and shook his hand. Blood ran across his fingers.

Another scream—fear jolted him from his pain. “Rip—load up!”
After the second try at the ignition switch, the truck fired and Sam forced it
into reverse. It bumped and rocked traveling as fast as it would go through the
field. Rip barked as the truck climbed the hill. The screams sounded like they
came from the back side of the old Duncan place. Charging over the last bump,
he topped the hill and slid the truck to a standstill next to the fence.
Standing in the middle of the saddest excuse for a garden stood a woman
wielding a hoe. A blond ponytail bounced with every move.

Sam pushed open the door and jumped, Rip behind him.

“Hey!”

She stood frozen to one spot. He grabbed the top of the
fence and jump over it as Rip crawled underneath, ready for the chase. He
bounded for the lady.

“Hey—lady!” Sam hollered, again. “You hurt—snake bit?”

She glanced up as the mutt loped through the grass heading
her way. Winded Sam reached the edge of the garden. Facing him stood that
woman—the one stranded on the side of the road—all culture and no country. Sam
sucked in a hot breath. His new neighbor. Scrutinizing the terror in her eyes,
he watched as she shuddered and scanned the ground and plants near her feet.

Now she glared at him. Ponytail no longer bobbed, but the
most exquisite green eyes he could not have dreamed up flashed sheer annoyance.
“What?”

Sam hesitated. “I said—are you hurt?”

She scowled recognizing the truck. “No. Do I look hurt?”

“Wasn’t that you who let out those bloodcurdling screams?”

She pulled in a deep breath, her shapely bosom evident in
her pink cotton sundress. “I saw a snake!”

She had the grace to stare back toward the ground as her
face reddened.

“God save me from silly females!” Sam yanked the remaining
glove off his good hand and looked down at the blood spreading across his
fingers on his other one. He wiped the sweat from his brow with the arm of his
t-shirt. “Woman—if you are afraid of everything that crawls in these hills,
you’d better pack up and head back to whatever city you came from!”

Smarting from his accusations, she twisted her head back in
his direction. “How dare you!” You drive across My property and shout at me for
no reason. I did not ask or need to be rescued! What time-warp century did you
come from?”

Abashed, he frowned. His dog was now at her feet, wagging
his tail and looking up at her adoringly.

“Point taken.” His sweat and blood stung his hand.

“Come on Rip.” Slinging the dripping blood from his injured
fingers, Sam turned and marched back to his vehicle with Rip at his heels. Sam
tipped his head at the woman, offered up his juvenile behavior by stomping on
the gas pedal. He spun his truck around, almost grazing her fence, then bounced
across the ruts as he tore down the hill.

“Oooh!” She kicked a dirt clod with the toe of her sandal.
The hard soil did not budge. A cry of pain escaped her lips. She threw down the
hoe, grabbed her throbbing big toe, lost her balance, and then fell squarely on
her butt. “Ouch!” A small vapor of dust completed her humiliation. Why couldn’t
I have a kindly old man for a neighbor—not a blue-eyed jackass!

Friday, June 21, 2013

“My son?” Erebos’s smug words slid out of the dark and over
Sam, mocking him. That oily voice plucked at Sam’s senses like a maestro
playing a poisoned harp. The sound alone taunted everything inside him to fury
until every sensation sang in hate. “Such a magnificent son, so full of great
and terrible promise.” The voice cooed from behind his ear, cooling the nape of
his neck. A claw ran across the breadth of his shoulders. Sam felt like a stud
at auction. Any second people would start shouting out prices. That infuriated
him, more so than the fact he’d been chained to the foot her statue, like some misbehaved dog waiting for its mistress to
come home.

Sam snapped
his elbow back at the voice, praying to connect. He wanted nothing more in that
moment than to feel bone breaking under his blow. Instead the chain rattled
merrily stopping him. “Of course you’re mine. Everything you are in this existence
is because of me.” The voice drifted around him.

Oh yeah, and didn't he know it, and never in a thousand
years would Sam ever forgive him. Erebos was the one who killed Haven and Seth.
The one behind all of this, the one responsible for the hell Sam was in. It
made his blood seethe.

Sam turned towards the voice and hissed venomously.
“I’ll rip everything you have built down. Every heartbeat and every breath I
have in me will be just to destroy you.” The silence filled with righteous intent. Sam wouldn't
simply kill him he would obliterate everything about all of them. No more innocent
people would die.

The dark
quieted until all Sam could hear was his own harsh breathing. The vampire had
gone still. Like a shark in a night time ocean Sam had no idea where the killer
in the dark would strike next, and it could be from literally anywhere.

“Do you
mean the heart that beats, pulsing from my blood and the newborn breath that
you gasped when you woke in the dark four days ago? The ones that dwell there still, full from the
night air and my power? Is that the beat and breath you’re talking about? The
ones I gave you?”

Invisible
fingers caught his chin and held Sam’s face in a vise. Sam held his ground,
refusing to be cowed or back down. Although he couldn't see him in the dark he
knew Erebos stood right in front of him and Sam wanted him to see all the hate
he felt.

The touch
turned gentle.

Sam
blinked.

Cold
fingers cupped his cheek. Sam fought not to jerk his head away from the disconcerting
touch. The sudden switch unsettled him but he wasn't about to give the vampire the
satisfaction of seeing him flinch.

“My blood and my breath gave you life, my
words gave you a name. You are more mine than any mortal man who you knew
before.”

Blue
bloomed in the darkness before his eyes as the vampire let himself be seen.
Darkness parted in swirls giving way to the diaphanous light all vampires had.
Erebos stood nose to nose with Sam, his dark eyes were so stark against the glow
they looked like bullet holes in an electric ghost.

Sam couldn't
look away if he’d tried.

“I am your
father.”

Erebos slid
his hand to the back of Sam’s neck and leaned down until their foreheads
touched.

“Thanatos
you are my son. Don’t you remember me?”

The words
wormed their way into his soul and twisted to take root.

My Son.

I am your father.

Remember me.

Something blurred in Sam’s mind. Another dark eyed man
with a bright smile faded at the edges of his conscience.

Who was that? He seemed important somehow. The energy
surging though him faltered and Sam’s body sagged, dizziness sent the world
spinning on a cockeyed axis. The blue god in front of him held him tenderly
while Sam reeled.

Father? Did dad
always glow?

Sam stared into
the dark eyes fighting to place what was wrong. Yeah he did, but it’s wrong somehow. His gaze dropped to the Blue
God’s chest. The glow was always there
and it was a different color.

A niggle of memory
shimmered like a fish in dark water. A glimpse of brilliant gold on black. That’s right it’s gold not blue. The memory
solidified into a shield glowing in the setting sun.

A badge?

His dad’s badge on his uniform!

The ghostly man of
his memory erupted into full glorious color. His father stood leaning against the
Challenger. He’d come home from work and he’d turned to smile at Sam just as
the sun set. The light had caught his shield and his dad’s badge looked like his
heart was on fire against the black police uniform. It was Sam’s best memory of
him.

Sam’s stare locked onto the one across from him.

Indescribable
anger arced through Sam’s mind swallowing what remained of his rationality
whole.

He’s
trying to hypnotize me into forgetting my father.

Rage unlike
anything he’d ever known exploded through him. It pounded his heart and sent
all the muscles in his body surging. Snarling, Sam lunged at Erebos. The sharp
rasping ring of metal scraping against the marble behind him barely registered
in his heated brain.

“You’re not
my father you sick prick!” Sam reached
the end of his chain, the sudden loss of slack jerked his attack short. The heavy iron cut into his wrists, and still
he fought forward. He knew he couldn't break the iron holding him there, but
that didn't stop him from trying.

The blue
winked out and the void rushed in all around him again.

In the dark
behind him the smug voice chuckled. “Such a pity we were so close to bonding
too. I’d rather you came to me Thanatos, but I understand. Just like I
understand change can be difficult and parents have to be firm with wayward
children.” The chain on his left wrist
dipped slightly. “Well, I suppose we’ll have to do things the hard way then.” It was all the warning he got. The chain shot
backwards through the rings in the statues base.

Sam’s arm
nearly popped from their socket from the force and he flew across the room like
a kite in a tornado.

Sam cracked
his head against the marble and crashed his teeth together. Blood gushed in his
mouth bittersweetly. Must have bit my
tongue. Owww. He ran his tongue across his teeth, a flap caught and tugged
painfully. Yep nashed it good. Although
it did kind of feel nice. A traitorous moan rumbled past his clenched teeth.

Sam’s eyes
shot open.

No! His
heart screamed at his fading mind.

What he
needed to bring him back to himself wasn't there. The hurt that should have
shocked him slipped away, edging into ecstasy instead. His ethereal thoughts
circled the horrible truth in vanishing motes that became harder and harder to
focus on through the giddiness swirling around his head. The sun had set and Nyx’s hold over him had
returned. He was out of time. There was no way he could fight Erebos and Nyx at
the same time. She’d be here any minute.

The pain
swam in euphoric waves that rolled his eyes up into his skull.

She’s getting closer.

Sam screwed
his eyes shut, vainly trying to block out the feeling. His last threads of sanity thrashed for
anything to save itself from the sinking darkness.

“Tell you
what. Let’s wager for it, Dad. Let’s
play a game, if I win you unchain me and I go free for the night. If you win.”
Sam spat blood on the floor and took a deep breath. “Well then you win. I’ll
come willingly.” Nausea twisted Sam’s
gut to say those words.

Suddenly
the vampire was there again, his evil firefly light filling the space before
the statue in sickening shades of blue. The smirk on his face unmistakable. He
had the vampires undivided attention.

Monday, June 10, 2013

Leonid Chaikov rubbed a clammy hand
across his mouth and tugged on his great, grey beard. His cards wouldn't
change, no matter how long he stared. He crushed them together and glanced
around the tiny mountain shack. The bare studs of the interior offered no
encouragement. The raw planks and barren cabin looked as bleak as his poker
hand. He thumbed them open. No luck. Still the same stinkin' cards "Two pair. Two lousy pair."

"Come on, Chaikov. I ain't got
all day. You gonna see my hand or not?" The voice from across the table
grated in his ears. Turning to face the voice, he stared into merciless, beady
eyes, glinting across the table. How had he ever allowed himself to get into a
card game with Hargrave and Armitage? Sun Lee would have his hide if he lost
their mine to the card shark and his 'go-fer'.

"Shut up, Hargrave. It's my
mine I'm putting on the table."

The hint of a smile snaked across
Hargrave's angular face. He leaned back, tipping his chair onto its back legs.
"That it is, Chaikov, that it is. You take all the time you want, 'cause
when we get done, it's all gonna be mine."

Hargrave's face set into its
ever-present sneer. He jerked upright. The chair hit the floor with a
resounding thud. Chaikov jumped at the sound, then settled into his own rickety
seat. An unintelligible grunt escaped his lips. The cards, made thick by too
many sweaty fingers from too many poker games, refused to budge. He held them
toward the flickering lamplight and shook his head. No matter what he did, all
he could see was two pair, with a Jack kicker. A shudder shook the big man's
frame-- a shudder out of place on this stifling August night. Oh well, he couldn't
cover his marker in the pot now. It was all or nothing at this point.

He smoothed the precious paper lying
on the table. Picking up the pencil stub beside him, he scrawled his name on
the front, endorsing the deed. Caressing it gently between his fingers, he
finally stretched out his hand and deposited the document atop the pile of
coins in the table's center. He brushed the other documents lying by the
coins. " I'll call. I'm putting the
deed to the mine down. And I'll see your hand."

Chaikov glared across the table,
keeping his hand firmly on the two papers.

Hargrave's smile widened. "I'll
be glad to show it to you. Read 'em and weep, Chaikov."

Hargrave
stood up, spreading his cards on the worn tabletop. "Three pretty Queens
lined up beside a pair of Jacks. A full house, Chaikov."

He leaned forward, pressing his
palms of the table. Eye-to-eye, his hissed, "Show me better, if you got
it."

Chaikov's shoulders sagged. He
pulled his hand back and turned his cards face up. "You got me beat. My
two pair won't take that." His heart sank. He'd lost it--lost the Golden
Dragon Mine. Sun Lee would never forgive him--and she was such a good daughter.
Since her mother's death, she'd loaded dirt and worked with him like a trouper.
What could he say to her? He buried his face in his hands.

A strangled sound, coming from the
third player in this unholy card game caught his attention. He glanced at
Armitage, who'd been in the game at the beginning. Seeing Armitage's face, he
looked back at the cards. "What's wrong with you, Rat Face? You look like
you just seen a ghost?"

Chaikov held the third hand in his
huge fist and shook it slowly in Hargrave's face. "I just did." He
spread the cards on the table between the other two hands. A pair of jacks
peaked out of Armitage's hand. An icy chill settled over the three men. Chaikov
stood, towering over the others. He glared at the winner. "It's your deck,
Hargrave. Since when does a poker deck have five Jacks?"

"Never mind." Chaikov
reached for the pieces of paper. "I'll be takin' the deeds."

Hargrave swung toward him
"No!"

Chaikov's hand dropped to his gun.
"Yes, I will." He was too
slow. As his hand touched holster leather, he felt a searing pain in his chest,
and instant before he heard the crack of a derringer. It was the last sound he
ever heard. He clutched at his chest, trying to stop the pain exploding inside,
trying to cover the hole exposing his lung. He couldn't breathe. Darkness
eroded his vision, leaving him only a glimpse of the deeds on the table. With a
dying gasp, he lunged toward the shadow.

Wednesday, May 29, 2013

Tessa joined them, carrying a tray loaded with a teapot and three cups. “Time for refreshment, don’t you agree?”

She set the tray on a nearby table and served them.

Ben Charles watched Violet’s demeanor change, and recognized she was uncomfortable with the role reversal. “We don’t want to push ourselves on you, Violet,” he said in a gentle tone.

Her dark gaze moved to his, and he read her uncertainty.

“Perhaps if you think of Sunday as a family day, and remember we want you as part of our family, you’ll be more comfortable.”

A flicker of pain crossed her features, but she quickly hid it. “I’ll try.”

The afternoon sun streaming through the front windows enhanced the color of her eyes, which always appeared so dark. In this light they were a rich deep mahogany, flecked with gold and green. The last thing he wanted to do was crowd her and scare her off. Apparently she had no one else, and everyone needed a family. His might be small, but he and Tessa had a lot to offer.

“We have a new player to draw into our games?” his sister said as she settled beside Violet. The last word had ended on a higher note, indicating her question.

“I was hoping to make a good impression this first weekend,” he replied with good humor. “Not send her packing.”

“What games are you referring to?” Violet asked.

Tessa got up and took one of the game boards from the wall.

“I thought those were colorful lithographs,” Violet said with surprise.

“They’re game boards,” Tessa replied. “This one is my favorite.

The game she referred to was Round the World with Nellie Bly. Tessa had loved to play this one since she was a child. “She’s read Nellie Bly’s book a dozen times,” Ben Charles told Violet.

“Have you read it?” Tessa asked, her expression animated.

“Indeed I have,” Violet answered. “I was twelve when she made headlines. My father and I followed her column in the New York World from the moment she left Jersey City, through the Mediterranean, across the Suez Canal and the Indian Ocean, to Japan, all the way until she arrived in New York City. It was the most exciting adventure a girl could imagine.”

The pleasure on Tessa’s face was worth a hundred Sunday afternoons of playing her game. “I was too young then to remember,” she said. “But I read the newspaper accounts in the archives at the library.”
Their conversation convinced Ben Charles once and for all that God had answered his prayers and sent Violet. Emotion spread throughout his chest, like a comforting emollient for a previously aching heart. Thank You, Lord. Your mercies are indeed new every morning.

“How do you play?” Violet asked.

From a cabinet, Tessa gathered the spinner and worn wooden tokens and explained the simple forward and backward movement in the spiral of spaces. “This isn’t Ben Charles’s favorite game, but he indulges me.”

Violet met his eyes, her appreciation and compassion obvious. She gave him a tentative smile that changed the warmth in his chest to something else. Something hotter and more surprising.
Something that didn’t resemble appreciation in the least.

“What is your favorite game?” she asked.

“I don’t mind a competitive game of croquet,” he replied. “Weather permitting.”

“I keep telling him there is a parlor croquet set in Mr. Levine’s shop.”

He grimaced. “If it must be a board game, then I prefer Carrom.”

“You fling little disks across the board into pockets.” Tessa wrinkled her nose the same way she had since she was five and pointed to one of the larger boards on the wall. “Did your family play games at home?”

“Only checkers,” Violet answered.

“Maybe we could read Around the World in Seventy-Two Days together,” Tessa suggested.

Violet didn’t blink an eye. “I would enjoy that.”

Ben Charles believed she meant it.

Violet joined the play with enthusiasm, and the two young women pointed put the details of the book at each space on the board. His sister’s animation and smile gave him immense satisfaction. The game lasted a couple of hours, until he got hungry. “I’m going to go get us a tray of ham and cheese and bread.”

“I can do that,” Violet spoke up.

“It’s your day off,” he reminded her. “We’re used to fending for ourselves on Sunday evenings. We can pop corn over the fire later.”

It was obvious their routine and customs were new to Violet. He and his sister spent a lot of time alienated from others, but perhaps even in their seclusion they’d been more like a family than anything Violet had experienced.

They shared a simple meal, and later ate popcorn. Tessa played a few pieces on the pianoforte. When she’d finished she said to Violet, “I had a nice time. Thanks for joining the game.”

She briefly pressed her cheek to his. I’m going upstairs to read before bed. Good night.”

Once she was gone, Violet stood and leaned over to gather their dishes on the tray. Without standing, Ben Charles extended his hand and placed it on her wrist. “I’ll do that.”

She looked at his hand, but he didn’t remove it.

He should have.

She was new to their household. He intended for theirs to be a strictly working relationship, but he felt a constant need to assure her she was part of their family. He had no business changing their agreement or making her uncomfortable by letting new feelings get in the way.

She’d only been here a few days.

In those brief moments while her gaze moved from his hand to his face, he went over all the reasons why he needed to keep his distance.

But everything about Violet appealed to him and made him feel protective. He told himself he held only a brotherly concern, like that he felt for Tessa, but the lie didn’t convince him.

Tuesday, May 28, 2013

There had to be something she could do to
distract herself, before she came just thinking about Micah’s touch. They
passed a farmstead. Two horses stood by a worn wooden fence. “Zip, zip.”

Micah
jerked his head toward her. “What?”

“Oh,
just remembered a game we played in the car when I was a kid. When you see a
horse, you say ‘zip’. At the end of the trip, whoever had the most zips won.”

“What
did you win?”

She
chuckled. “Bragging rights was about it. I didn’t win too often, my dad had an
uncanny knack of seeing the horses.”

“Sounds
like fun. I challenge you to a game of... zip?”

Maybe
this would help clear her mind. Dilyn nodded. “Challenge accepted.” She pointed
“Zip. That’s three for me.”

“Three?
But you zipped the first two horses before I even knew about the game.”

“Well...”

He
laughed, the deep, joyous sound settled comfortably around her heart. Then he
gave her a calculating look. “Okay, I’ll let you have your three horses. If...”

“If?”

“If
you accept a wager on the outcome.”

A
wager? Was he a gambler? Was that why he didn’t seem to have a permanent job?
She hesitated then asked, “A wager?”

Micah
nodded. He’d thrown her a curve ball and he liked seeing her unsure of his
motivations. Keeping her on edge would make the night that much better. If he
could last that long. He was ready to burst with the need to f### her. He blinked
and amended his thought. F### was too crass for her, despite their first time
together. No, from now on, no matter how wild or uninhibited their romps might
become, he’d only ever be making love to her. With her. He blinked again.

“Micah?
What do you mean by a wager?”

“Whoever
has the highest count of zips when we pull up in front of Alice’s house, gets
to choose our... activities... for the evening.”

A
spark lit her eyes before she looked out the window. “Even if it’s just
watching television.”

He doubted
either of them would choose such a boring, innocent pastime, but if that’s what
she wanted. “Even if it’s only watching television. However, I have to warn you, while Alice has
satellite, the old place, where I usually bunk, only has rabbit ears. On a good
night I can get two stations.”

She
laughed. “I’ll take my chances. The bet’s on.” She pointed again. “Two more
zips. That makes five to zero.”

Micah
enjoyed watching her scan the rolling sandhills, searching for horses. And
there were plenty. This was good land for raising horses. He gave an occasional
‘zip’ just to keep the game interesting but let her stay eight or nine ahead of
him.

“You’re
not trying very hard.”

“Zip,”
he called, nodding toward a distant hill.

“I
don’t see any horses.”

“It
was running over the hill. Disappeared right after I called it.”

Dilyn
crossed her arms. “Uh huh. I tried that, too, when I was a kid. My dad didn’t
buy it either.”

“No,
really--”

“I’m
feeling generous, so I’ll let you have that one. Just this once.” She punched
his arm softly. “Don’t try it again, buster.”

They
were only a couple of miles from the road to Turquoise Creek Ranch, he had no
need to count imaginary horses. “Nope. I’ll only count horses we both can see.
Cross my heart.”

He
eased the car onto a gravel road and glanced at Dilyn from the corner of his
eye. She watched the land from her side of the car. Good.

He
slowed before the final hill. The houses and main buildings were nestled between
two rolling banks of hills. And near the barn, his brother-in-law kept--

“Zip,
zip, zip, zip, zip...” He continued zipping until he’d counted all twenty
horses scattered across the narrow pasture.

He
turned a triumphant grin to Dilyn. She sat, mouth open, switching her gaze
between the horse studded green and his face. “You...you cheated.”

He
shrugged. “Since this is family land, you should have guessed I’d know where the
horses are kept.”

“But...but--”

He
stopped her complaints with a kiss. She sighed into his mouth and cupped his
cheek. He danced his tongue with hers then slowly withdrew and leaned back. “I
win. I get to choose tonight’s activities.”

Tuesday, May 7, 2013

And to start off, it's time to report pages. In the comments section, let the guru know how many new pages you've written since the last time you reported. If you've been editing, state the total number of pages with heavy edits as well. Blogs, queries, synopsis, wip, those all count!

While you're leaving your page count in the comments section, let us know what your favorite game was when you were young.

Monday, April 8, 2013

Our Heartlandian Skating Spectacular comes to an end April 13th. The guru will count up the scores and determine the placements of our fabulous writing teams.

To do that, she needs your reports for pages written since the last time you reported. Leave a comment with the number of fresh, new pages. If you've been editing, let us know the number of heavily edited pages as well. Don't forget to leave your name!

AND... I'm sure Mary would love some company in the Exhibition! Go HERE, read the instructions and participate! Make sure to take a look at the exhibitions and leave a little applause. We all need encouragement.